Wasted Time Or Time Well Spent

Wanna Be That Song

Brett's P.O.V.

"What you see in front of you is shrimp fettuccini with asparagus tips and a parmesan Alfredo sauce. Study it's appearance. How is it presented?"

I look at her like she's from the moon or something. The smell is getting to me and my mouth is starting to water. "Uh..." She doesn't relent and so I stare down at it and look for something to say, "kind of a small portion." I chuckle and she quarks an eyebrow at me again. "It's pretty and white and..."

She giggles and I relax slightly. "The presentation isn't spot on. There's a spot on my plate and the tips aren't facing the same direction. The shrimp is a bit too light but that could be from the reheating. The pasta has a beautiful coating of the sauce and-"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Can I eat it now?"

Naomi grins and shakes her head, refocusing on the food and starting to pick at it with her fork. "Describe the feel of the noodles, the consistency of the sauce, how the shrimp breaks apart with the fork. Does it break like rubber or fall apart all together?"

"I don't think I like this game." My stomach rumbles and she giggles again. We go through smell next and I nearly die. Finally we get to eat it but it's no longer quite hot and we need to first pick apart the flavor and quality of every ingredient in the dish. After 15 minutes she sits back with a satisfied grin. "You may eat it now."

"Oh thank god!" I start shoveling the food in and she outright laughs, continuing to slowly eat off of her plate, clearly finding her own enjoyment in the meal.

"So, how many words do you think you could use to explain this meal?"

"Maybe 500?" I think I'm being generous but she just scoffs.

"Maybe 5,000. And that's not even including the ambience of the restaurant, how you were treated, the kind of conditions you see... I don't go to stuff my face. I go to find an experience."

"I can see now, a person could starve with a job like this. You must really love your job."

She nods and smiles happily. "It's a different kind of passion than a chef has or a reporter... Maybe kind of in-between."

"Passion is passion." I swallow and nod at her, taking a drink from my glass. "So how long will your article be?"

"Four pages. Two front and back."

I let out a low whistle and she nods, looking satisfied that she set me straight. "It will have pictures and a few advertisements in the layout as well but the rest is mine to fill up."

"So both of these articles are a pretty big deal?"

Naomi slowly considers while she chews her small and deliberate bite, she seems so calm and collected again. Not the girl with the wild blue green eyes or messy hair from before. "I guess you could say so.. I mean, the first place I covered when I came is one of those places just starting up and they are trying to get more attention from tourists. They actually invited someone from the magazine to dine there. It just happened to work out that my schedule fit the time frame they offered."

"Okay, makes sense." I finish and push my plate away slightly so I can lean on the table. "So do you usually write about the background music in the restaurant?"

"Of course. If I can hear it, or if it adds or subtracts to the experience, that goes in the article where there's room." She takes a sip of her wine and looks at me evenly.

"Then music is part of your job." I start to smirk and can see the corners of her mouth pull up a little.

"I'm not completely music incompetent... I'm just.. I have priorities."

"You clearly have some kind of taste, you like Michael Jackson after all." The blush on her cheeks tells me I'm getting somewhere. "Clearly, we need to get your priorities straightened out."

"My priorities are fine, thank you very much." She sets aside the plate and holds her wine glass by its stem, slowly swishing the liquid around in a circular motion.

"Well, I won't try to take your phone again, but may I?" I gesture to the docking station near the television and she nods.

"Go for it."

Quickly I pull up the music on my phone and plug it into the station, it takes another minute to figure out how to run the thing. Finally I hit play and a smooth jazz fills the room. I turn and look at her with a grin to find her with her eyes closed, face completely blank. When my voice starts in covering Sinatra her eyes fly open and she looks at me. "I didn't expect this at all."

"You know what they say about books and covers." Instead of returning to the table I walk into the other room and turn on the soft lights that barely light up the dark corners of the room and then I sit on the couch, leaning back and closing my eyes, wishing in my mind that she takes the bait. Maybe a minute or two passes before I feel the movement of her sitting on the other end of the couch.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

I open my eyes now to look at her and give her a gentle smile. "I won't hold it against you if you don't hold my prejudgments against me.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Naomi's P.O.V.

I wonder if he knows just how his smile unnerves me. I can't count the number of times my opinion has changed on his character. I'm still trying to figure out just who this strange person is. And just when I thought I had him, he puts on a Sinatra song he covered, looking both bashful and pleased with himself. "It's a deal." I almost reach out my hand and shake on it, almost. "So, what's music mean to you? Why do you love it so much?"

His face grows thoughtful and for a second I wonder if he forgot how to speak, he just stares off into space. "You know that feeling, when an airplane is lifting off and for a split second you feel weightless and the world seems to pause?" His focus returns to me and I nod, I think I know what he's talking about. "Well, I get that feeling whenever I sing, the world just seems lighter and it makes sense. I see someone's face when they listen to a song and it really means something to them and I get that same feeling..." His voice drops off and he clears his throat, looking down at his hands which sit on his legs as he talks, palms pressing against either leg.

"So you sing for yourself as well as others?" The song has ended and it's moved on to some other slow tune that I don't recognize.

"Yeah, and I write for the same reasons. It's expressing and expressive. Like when you write about the restaurants you've visited I guess... I mean, you write about a fantastic meal, or the place you were at and even if your readers haven't been in that specific place, eating that specific food; they try to relate it to something they've experienced... Sound about right?"

"Yeah." My voice barely comes out as a whisper, even though he's no longer looking at me I can still feel what he is feeling. Even without the piercing blue eyes looking into mine.

"Wow, did it just get really serious in here or is it just me?"

I can't stop the grin that spreads across my face, he can't seem to either.

"I'm probably boring you with all this deep and self involved stuff-"

"No, not at all!"

He looks up at me and I find myself blushing. I wish he would talk more about this but I don't want to push. A quick peek at my phone and I see it's half past midnight. Brett catches me looking and I see his face fall a little. "Well, I should probably let you sleep, it's getting late."

He stands and I look up at him, suddenly not wanting the evening to end just yet. "You know, I'm not at all tired. I mean, it's still half past 6 back home and I'm feeling really energized after that little meal. You don't have to go... Unless you're tired.. Which is completely okay and I-"

"Naomi," he cuts me off with a chuckle, "let's get out of here." He walks over to where I hung my coat and holds it out for me with a smile, I grin and stand, letting him help me slip my arms through the sleeves. "London is beautiful at night anyway."